


The Choice

by toyhto



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, But not only angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: A lonely house in Scotland, a bottle of scotch, and the end of the world.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 95





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I wasn't going to write much fanfiction for some time but here we go. I'm rating this Explicit to be on the safe side but if you think this passes as Mature, feel free to tell me. And you can also say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

FIVE DAYS  
  
  
  
The sky had been grey for days. _Scotland_ , Eames had decided and then thought nothing more of it. It had been actually odder than he had anticipated, working in a house only miles away from where his father had taken him fishing when he had been a kid. He had spent some time in Inverness two years ago, when his mother had died. When he had locked the house and left, he had wondered if he was going to come back to Scotland ever again. He’d hardly have a reason to.  
  
 _What’s it,_ Arthur had said, when Eames had parked his rental at the yard and stepped out of it. But he hadn’t seen Arthur after the Fischer job. He certainly hadn’t wanted to trade an inappropriately flirty greeting for a discussion about his childhood memories. Obviously, Arthur had ignored the flirting and told him very politely to take his bags to the bedroom upstairs, the last one on the left.  
  
“Arthur, Eames,” Lucy was saying now in the living room, “come here. You have to see this.”  
  
Eames glanced at Arthur. Well, he had been glancing at Arthur _a lot_ , because there was nothing else to glance at. Arthur looked so out of place sitting in a flowery armchair in sweatpants and a very warm-looking pullover.  
  
“Quickly!”  
  
Arthur looked at Eames, frowned, put his laptop aside and stood up. Eames followed him. Arthur was the boss, after all. When he had agreed to take this job, he had been a bit worried about Arthur being a boss, but it had turned out to be quite nice. He liked taking orders from Arthur, and wasn’t that an interesting discovery?  
  
“ _\- are aware that the silence about this is a very severe matter. However, there has been a lot of debate about the accuracy of the finding, and because of its nature, it was considered best in the circumstances not to inform the public when the matter wasn’t yet confirmed. It has been feared that announcing this would only end up in panic and chaos, and –_ “  
  
“What’s going on?” Eames asked. The news reporter on the television certainly looked grim.  
  
“Quiet,” Lucy said in a sharp voice.  
  
“ _Despite the remaining uncertainties, the astronomers have now confirmed that it is highly probable that the asteroid will reach the Earth in approximately five days and six hours. If the calculations made by the world’s leading astronomers are right, the effect of the collision will end all human life on Earth.”  
  
_ Eames turned to Arthur. Arthur was blinking rapidly, still staring at the television screen.  
  
“ _And next, to the other news -,”_ said the reporter in a wavering voice.  
  
Lucy turned the volume down but didn’t shut the television. Eames looked at the video clip of explosions in Baghdad and then at Arthur again. Now Arthur was looking at him. Arthur’s mouth was half-open and his eyes were moving back and forth on Eames’ face as if he was looking for something. He clearly didn’t find it. Eames saw from the corner of his eye Jack getting up from the couch and walking to the kitchen. Lucy was still sitting in the chair, frozen. Catelyn gave out something that sounded half-a-cry and half-a-laugh, then took her phone and walked straight out of the front door. In the kitchen, Jack opened a bottle of scotch.  
  
Eames blinked and turned to look through the window. There was nothing on the sky but grey.  
  
“They’re wrong,” Lucy said in a voice that sounded too loud for the room. “Or maybe it’s a scam.”  
  
“Guys,” Arthur said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was filled with fake confidence. Eames wondered vaguely if he was the only one who could tell the difference. “We still have a job to do, so let’s keep doing it.” Then he turned and walked out of the room.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Arthur’s bedroom was next to Eames’. When Eames had arrived in the house, he had asked with a grin if Arthur had done it deliberately or if it was just a happy coincident. Arthur had looked at him as if wondering if he had taken a hit on the head since they had last met.  
  
He knocked on Arthur’s room. It was past midnight, but he was happy to wake Arthur up if that was the case. He already had his hand on the handle, when he heard soft steps coming through the door. Arthur opened the door in the same clothes he had been wearing the whole day, only now he wasn’t wearing shoes.  
  
“Can I -,” Eames started.  
  
Arthur stepped aside. Eames walked to the room. It was smaller than his, which was odd, and the bed was narrower, but Arthur’s room had a desk and his hadn’t, so maybe that was why Arthur had chosen this room. Or maybe Arthur had been trying to be nice. But if that had been the case, surely it would’ve been easier just to fucking answer Eames’ flirting sometimes.  
  
“Your room is smaller than mine,” he said and sat down in the chair.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said in a heavy tone Eames didn’t care to interpret too thoroughly just now. But clearly it implied that someone was going to have to comfort someone.  
  
“Do you think it’s true?”  
  
Arthur shook his head and Eames let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, but then Arthur said, “I don’t know.”  
  
Eames cleared his throat. “Really, you think –“  
  
“I don’t know anything about astronomy,” Arthur said, his voice suddenly sharp. “And you don’t, either. But I can’t see why…”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I don’t know why they’d lie about something like this,” Arthur said. “I can’t even think about what an information like that will do.”  
  
“Me, neither,” Eames said. And he wasn’t going to try. He was in Scotland, in a small cold house near to the sea, and all he had to deal with was Arthur and himself. And the job. And Lucy, Catelyn and Jack. But mostly, Arthur and himself.  
  
“We can’t do anything,” Arthur said, standing in the middle of the tiny bedroom, staring at Eames. “There’s nothing we can do to fix it. Not in five days and six hours.”  
  
Eames bit his lip. Fixing problems was what Arthur did. “Arthur, there’s absolutely nothing you could do. Even if it’s true. Maybe it isn’t.”  
  
Arthur stared at him.  
  
“You couldn’t do anything even if you had all the time in the world. And you don’t. But you can keep our job here going. So that if the asteroid doesn’t hit us -,” his voice wavered a little and he hated himself for it, “- we’re still going to get payed.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said, nodding, “yes, of course. That’s sensible.”  
  
“So,” Eames said and stood up slowly, “I guess I’ll go now, so you can get to sleep.”  
  
Arthur nodded again. Eames walked to the door and rested his hand on the handle and waited. He shouldn’t have. But there had always been this _something_ , this thought he couldn’t get rid of, this idea that one day, Arthur would answer his flirt and kiss him, and they’d have great sex and maybe even something resembling a relationship.  
  
“Okay,” he said and opened the door. “Good night.”  
  
“Good night,” Arthur said.  
  
  
  
**  
  
  
  
FOUR DAYS  
  
  
  
Eames woke up to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He made sure he was wearing pants and then got out of the bed, but he couldn’t reach the door before Arthur pushed it open.  
  
“Hi,” he said.  
  
Arthur looked a little surprised. Maybe he had thought that Eames would sleep in a fucking suit or something. Or maybe he just hadn’t seen a man in his underwear before.  
  
“Jack’s gone,” Arthur said, “and Lucy and Catelyn are leaving.”  
  
Eames swallowed. “What?”  
  
“He left a note, saying he’s sorry about the job but he’s going to spend the rest of his time with his wife and kids. Lucy’s taking her things to the car now. She said she doesn’t give a fuck about the job. Nicely, though. And Catelyn’s been crying a lot.”  
  
“That’s understandable,” Eames said slowly. Maybe Arthur was pissed at people calling off the job. There was no way he and Arthur could pull it together.  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said, then straightened his back and looked around. “I think they’re right. They shouldn’t be thinking about the job.”  
  
Eames waited for a few seconds but still didn’t know if he wanted to ask or not. He was going to find eventually, though. “Are you going to leave?”  
  
Arthur’s shoulders dropped. He walked to Eames’ bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Eames stared. Those were his sheets and he was pretty sure they were still warm. He had been lying there just half a minute ago -  
  
“No,” Arthur said.  
  
“No?”  
  
“I should call Cobb,” Arthur said, “and my father, but really I don’t… I don’t have anywhere to go.”  
  
“To your father?” Eames asked slowly.  
  
Arthur shook his head. “He has his new family. Kids and everything. It’s always awkward when I visit. He doesn’t need that now. And I don’t need that.”  
  
“I’m not going to leave, either,” Eames said.  
  
He probably shouldn’t have gotten so glad when Arthur looked relieved. “Really?”  
  
“I think it’s a scam,” Eames said, “I thought about it last night, and it has to be. I don’t know, maybe they’re trying to start the world war three or something, but it has to be a scam. Think about it. Think about everything the humans have built on this planet. Think about how many there’re of us. We can’t just be wiped out like that. It’s just not realistic.” He paused to take a breath. Arthur was watching him closely. “But anyway, I don’t have any specific place to be, either.”  
  
“We could just stay here.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eames said, “we’ll stay here. And you’ll see, after six days we’ll laugh about this.”  
  
Arthur stared at him and said nothing.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They stood in the doorway when Lucy drove away. Catelyn had left ten minutes earlier. Neither of them ate breakfast or wanted to hear anything about the job, but Lucy hugged them both before going. Arthur threw an odd glance at Eames when Lucy hugged him and ruffled his hair, and he knew exactly why. He had once slept with Lucy and, what was the stupid part, he had told Arthur about it, probably to make Arthur jealous. Sometimes he thought Arthur had a file titled _WHY I WILL NOT SHAG EAMES_ hidden somewhere and everything he ever did went in there.  
  
When everyone was gone, he followed Arthur back inside. For a moment he thought Arthur was going to go to his bedroom, but Arthur took his laptop, sat down on the couch and started reading something with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. Eames got himself a glass of water and a chocolate bar and sat down in the chair from where he could watch Arthur. Arthur looked so serious. Arthur looked like he was actually working, or maybe like he was very much trying to pretend he was actually working. That’d be just like him.  
  
“What’re you doing?” Arthur asked after five minutes.  
  
“Watching you.”  
  
Arthur blinked. “Why’re you watching me?”  
  
“Well,” Eames said and took another bite of the chocolate bar, “I hear that the world is going to end. A man’s got to get his entertainment wherever he can.”  
  
He saw Arthur swallowing. “I’m your entertainment?”  
  
“You could be,” Eames said and grinned.  
  
Arthur didn’t grin back.  
  
“What? You look angry. Are you angry? What’re you angry about? You can’t be angry about –“  
  
“You’re flirting with me,” Arthur said. “This is fucking serious, Eames. I don’t know what’s going to happen. And you’re just flirting with me like you always do, like this is a fucking _joke._ ”  
  
That seemed a bit unfair. “I fucking hope it’s a joke,” Eames said and hoped he would’ve had something to throw at Arthur. He didn’t want to sacrifice the chocolate, so he picked up the nearest pillow. He didn’t manage to hit Arthur, though. “And what do you want me to do about it? Cry? Because if it’s true, I bet you’re going to see me cry eventually. And you aren’t going to like that. So I’d think you wouldn’t mind me flirting at you when we’re waiting to see if we’re going to die.”  
  
“I just can’t take it,” Arthur said, still sounding angry, the goddamn idiot, “you’re doing it all the time, Eames, I haven’t seen you since inception and you started flirting immediately. I kind of thought we were friends.”  
  
“We _are_ friends,” Eames said, “that’s why I flirt with you, you fucking moron.”  
  
“That doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said, “you don’t flirt with everyone.”  
  
“Don’t you want to be friends, then?” Eames asked. “Because I can do that. I can pretend that I don’t know you. We can ignore each other for four days and that’ll be it.”  
  
“Of course I want to be friends,” Arthur said, “but the flirting, it’s driving me crazy, it’s like you’re waving this whole thing in front of my face, but nothing means anything, and I just can’t grasp it. I need _facts._ But you give me _nothing._ ”  
  
“I give you _plenty_ ,” Eames said and tried to think of something as an example but couldn’t.  
  
“Well?” Arthur said, so maybe he knew what Eames was doing.  
  
“I’ve been sending you texts.”  
  
“About the clothes you’re wearing,” Arthur said. “That’s flirting, Eames.”  
  
“Okay,” Eames said, “fine. Alright. I can’t stop flirting with you because you never fucking _answer it_. I always think that you might, but you never do.”  
  
“Answer it? How? What do you want me to do?”  
  
“I want you to flirt back.”  
  
Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again and just stared at him. He took another bite of the chocolate and ended up coughing. The house seemed suddenly very quiet. Apparently, he preferred angry Arthur after all.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said, sounding very tired, “I don’t know how to flirt back.”  
  
“You’re thirty years old. Surely you know how to flirt by now.”  
  
“I’m twenty-nine,” Arthur said, his face all serious. “And don’t fucking tell me I should know how to flirt.”  
  
“It’s not very hard,” Eames said, “I do it all the time.”  
  
“I _know._ ” Arthur took a deep breath. “But where does it _lead?_ ”  
  
“Where does it lead?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“The flirting?”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur said, staring at him as if he really was waiting for an answer.  
  
Eames cleared his throat, then took a sip of water, then ate a little more chocolate. “I don’t know.”  
  
The way Arthur laughed was just terrible. Eames should probably tell him never to laugh like that again. It sounded like an old man’s bitter laugh. “You don’t _know._ ”  
  
“Well, obviously you don’t either,” Eames said and bit his lip. “Listen, Arthur, I don’t… I don’t have it planned or anything. I just know that I flirt with you and you never flirt back.”  
  
“Because I don’t know what you want,” Arthur said. He sounded sad about it.  
  
Eames leaned back in his chair. Arthur leaned back on the couch. It seemed a bit risky to tell Arthur that what he wanted was to have sex with Arthur. It was kind of obvious but also not at all, and there were so many ways Arthur could interpret it wrong if he wanted to. And also, it kind of didn’t answer the question.  
  
“Think about,” Eames said slowly, “think about if we only had four days left. And I flirted with you. And you didn’t have to think about what it’s going to mean for the rest of your life or career or whatever, because there would only be four days left. You could do what you want.”  
  
Arthur licked his lips.  
  
“I’m just wondering,” Eames said and pointed at Arthur with the chocolate bar, “what would you do? Would you flirt with me? And what would you want?”  
  
“I might,” Arthur said and cleared his throat, “I might flirt if I could figure out how.”  
  
“I’m pretty easy.”  
  
“No, you aren’t.”  
  
Eames took a deep breath. “Yes, I am. I’ll show you. Arthur, you’re looking very handsome in those trousers.”  
  
Arthur glanced at himself. He was still swearing the sweatpants. Then he glanced at Eames, and Eames realised vaguely that he was squeezing the chocolate quite tightly. “Well, thank you, Eames.”  
  
Eames waited. “And?”  
  
“You look very handsome, too,” Arthur said. He sounded terrified. “In your… trousers.”  
  
Eames grinned, then eased it down to a nice smile. He didn’t want to shock Arthur more than was necessary. “Oh, well, thank you, Arthur. Perhaps I may point out that I look even better without them.”  
  
Arthur stared at him for a few seconds. “Maybe.”  
  
Eames blinked. Arthur looked serious now, but to be honest, Eames had never been certain he could tell the difference. “What do you mean, _maybe?_ Arthur?”  
  
“I mean,” Arthur said and crossed his legs, “ _maybe._ ”  
  
“You’re _cruel._ I never thought you’d be _cruel._ ”  
  
“I’ve been wondering for _years_ what you mean when you flirt with me,” Arthur said in a happy tone that did nothing good to Eames’ blood pressure. He wanted to strangle Arthur for playing with him. Well, he wanted to start with strangling Arthur a little and then sit in Arthur’s lap and kiss Arthur on the fucking face. Or just on the mouth. That’d do, too.  
  
“Arthur,” he said, but couldn’t figure out where to go from there.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said, something shifting on his face, “I think I’m going to call my father now. And Cobb. Better to get it done with. And then we can get back to… I don’t know.”  
  
Eames nodded. “Perhaps we could watch a film.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Arthur said and then was silent for a while. “I have a question for you. If you knew you were only ever going to see, I don’t know, three more films in your life, which ones would you pick?”  
  
  
**  
  
  
The door to Arthur’s bedroom had been painted green apparently a long time ago, because there were cracks in the paint. Someone had carved the letters _M + J_ next to the handle and under it, written in a pencil so that Eames almost missed it, _fuckhead_. Maybe it had been Arthur.  
  
He stared at the closed door for a few minutes and wondered if Arthur’s knew he was here. It was three o’clock at night, or maybe in the morning, and Arthur had retreated to his bedroom an hour ago probably because he had got bored of seeing Eames’ face. There was no way Arthur was asleep. Eames could just knock. Arthur would open his door and possibly tell him to fuck off, but what then? They’d be dead in four days anyway.  
  
Eames turned, walked to his bedroom and closed the door.  
  
  
  
**  
  
  
  
THREE DAYS  
  
  
  
Something was wrong. It took Eames a few seconds to remember what it was, and then when he remembered, at first he thought it had to be a joke. It was _obvious_ that it was a joke. Lucy, Catelyn and Jack had just tricked him to believe it might be real by running away from the job, the fuckers. And Arthur was always serious about everything. Arthur wouldn’t have known humour if someone rubbed it in his face.  
  
It had to be a joke.  
  
Eames pulled on his clothes and threw a quick glance at the mirror, because he and Arthur were here alone, and if he was going to get anything out of this fucking disaster of a joke, that was definitely Arthur. He was going to get Arthur finally admit there was something going on between them. He was going to get Arthur admit he had a thing for Eames and that for all these years, he had ignored Eames’ flirting just because he was an idiot. And then -  
  
He didn’t have a goddamn clue what then.  
  
Arthur’s bedroom door was ajar, so he peeked in, but Arthur wasn’t there. The bed had been made neatly and the room was oddly clean. Eames couldn’t even see any lonely socks lying around on the floor or a novel on the side table or a suitcase, almost as if -  
  
He rushed the stairs down. Arthur was in the kitchen, making coffee. Eames stopped at the doorway and Arthur glanced at him, then glanced at him again.  
  
“Hi,” Arthur said. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” Eames said and took a deep breath. “I just… I thought… Everything’s brilliant. Really.”  
  
Arthur frowned at him and then seemed to think about something. “There’s something you should see.”  
  
“What?” Eames asked. _With delight_ , he thought, _darling, I’ve been waiting for you to say that_ , but his heart was still beating too heavily, and he doubted he could’ve managed to flirt now.  
  
“Come to the yard,” Arthur said and walked out of the kitchen. Eames followed him. It was a cold morning but for once there weren’t clouds on the sky. Arthur walked around the house with determinant steps, and it was somehow ominous that Arthur would be so serious about walking around an empty house in the middle of nowhere in Scotland. With Eames. In sweatpants and a pullover.  
  
“I don’t see anything,” Eames said, when Arthur stopped.  
  
“Look up,” Arthur said.  
  
It was the moon.  
  
No, it wasn’t the moon. The moon was on the sky not quite next to it but not far. It was bigger than the moon, and round, and it was dark grey when the moon was almost white.  
  
“Arthur –”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said.  
  
“I didn’t –”  
  
“Maybe it doesn’t hit us,” Arthur said.  
  
Eames cleared his throat. “Arthur…”  
  
“We should go back inside,” Arthur said and started walking again, the other way around the house, Eames following in his footsteps. Back in the house, Arthur went to the kitchen and poured coffee in two mugs that had been in the house when they had rented it. They looked like they were from the 80’s, which meant that they looked like the mugs in Eames’ childhood. Arthur took one, walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. Eames followed. Arthur’s hair was neat like it always was. He tried to imagine Arthur in the morning, his hair a mess, crawling to the bathroom to fix it before Eames could see it.  
  
He walked to the couch and sat down on it next to Arthur. Arthur seemed a little startled, but it was probably kinder for both of them to ignore that. “We lived in Aberdeen when I was kid.”  
  
Arthur glanced at him and then took a sip of his coffee. “I know.”  
  
“But my mom was from Inverness,” Eames said, “and my grandparents still lived there, so we spend some holidays in there. And this place, this is pretty close to where my dad took me to fishing.”  
  
He could see Arthur swallow. “Your dad.”  
  
“Yeah.” He leaned back in the couch. It was the kind of a couch that would swallow you if you stayed for too long. “I barely remember it, of course. He died when I was six.”  
  
“I…” Arthur rubbed the side of his nose with his fingertips. The skin on his hands looked so dry it had to hurt a little, and he had obviously been chewing his fingernails even though Eames hadn’t seen him do it. “I kind of knew that, too.”  
  
“You’re so subtle sometimes. Not that I didn’t know you were checking on me.”  
  
“I…” And then Arthur laughed, which made Eames startle a little. “Does finding out about your childhood secrets count as checking on you?”  
  
“You’re very thorough,” Eames said and bit his lip. “I like that about you.”  
  
Arthur glanced at him. “That’s…”  
  
“I’m still flirting with you,” Eames said, “I just don’t have my flirting face on right now.”  
  
“I like your face just fine the way it is,” Arthur said slowly.  
  
“Really? Because I didn’t have much time to make myself pretty after I woke up. Your bedroom door was open. And it was so clean. I kind of thought you had left like the others.”  
  
Arthur blinked. “ _Oh._ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“That was what it was.”  
  
“Yeah. I panicked a little.”  
  
“I wouldn’t do that,” Arthur said in a steady voice. “I wouldn’t just leave. You’ve got to trust me a bit more, Eames.”  
  
“I trust you just fine. It’s just… this is fucking frightening.”  
  
“I know.” Arthur raised his hand, then looked at it as if wondering what the hell he had been planning to do with it. Eames was wondering that, too. If they had been different, Arthur and him, maybe Arthur would’ve touched his hand. “Did you ever go back? To the place where your dad took you fishing?”  
  
Eames opened his mouth and closed it again. Well, he had started it. And he had thought for a long time that maybe Arthur had dug out every little secret about his life. And if Arthur had, surely it meant that Arthur liked him. “No.”  
  
“Do you want to? If it’s not far, we could –”  
  
Eames took a deep breath. “Not really. It was a long time ago. I want to… I guess I want to keep the memory as it is. With, you know, the sky being huge, and the sea being blue, and my dad being the wisest person in the whole world. I thought he could solve anything.”  
  
“I don’t know how that feels,” Arthur said and drank of his coffee.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Eames said. “Listen. If that fucking thing on the sky is really going to hit us, I kind of just want to sit here with you.” That was a lie. He wanted more than to sit. But Arthur looked like he was trying to hide how happy he was that Eames had said so, which made Eames’ chest feel uncomfortably tight.  
  
“That’s stupid,” Arthur said to his mug.  
  
“Unless you have something better to do.”  
  
“I really don’t.”  
  
“Good,” Eames said. Maybe the couch would swallow them whole and when the asteroid came, it couldn’t hit them anymore, because they’d be safely suffocated in the cushions. “What’s for breakfast, then?”  
  
  
**  
  
  
Arthur switched the television on late in the afternoon. Eames made him swear he wouldn’t do that again. Not to watch the news. They could lose their minds alone, together. They didn’t need to see other people doing it.  
  
Later, he found Arthur trying to wash dishes. Arthur’s hands were shaking so badly he kept dropping the plates. Eames held him by the shoulders, pulled him away from the sink and took care of the dishes himself. When he was finished, he turned to Arthur, who had been staring at his hands. “It’s okay,” he said before Arthur could say anything. “I won’t tell anyone you’re scared.”  
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
“I have more chocolate in my room,” Eames said. “I hid it under my bed because I thought you’d judge me. I’ll get it and we can sit on the sofa and eat it.”  
  
Arthur nodded again.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Tell me,” Eames said, his mouth full of chocolate, “would you ever have fucked Cobb?”  
  
Arthur’s smile was slow and coy and _god,_ he loved it. “That’s the thing you wanted to know about me?”  
  
“Well,” Eames said, “there’s plenty I want to know. But that’s important. Because I’m planning to stare at your face pretty intensely for a few days now and I just don’t know if I can take you seriously if you fucked Cobb.”  
  
“You didn’t ask me if I fucked Cobb,” Arthur said, “you asked me, and I quote, _would you ever have fucked Cobb._ ”  
  
“Would you have? Arthur?”  
  
“I can’t answer that.”  
  
“You _can’t?_ ”  
  
“How would I know?” Arthur said. “It’s not like it’s a simple question. There’s a lot of factors to consider.”  
  
“ _Fine._ I don’t want to hear about bloody _factors._ Would you have ever fucked me?”  
  
Arthur frowned at him. “Stop flirting with me. We were having a conversation.”  
  
“The conversation was me flirting with you.”  
  
Arthur stared at him silently for a few seconds, then stood up from the couch. “We need alcohol for this.”  
  
“Great,” Eames said in a voice that he hoped was casual, even though his heart was speeding up. Arthur was talking about fucking him. Arthur was sitting with him on the couch in sweatpants, smiling and grinning and not escaping from the door or the goddamn country even though they were talking about fucking. He kind of felt like he was drunk already but he didn’t remember drinking anything, so it probably was just the mixture of fear and Arthur’s proximity. “Arthur? What do we have?”  
  
“Gin,” Arthur called from the kitchen, “and scotch.”  
  
“Bring the scotch.”  
  
Arthur came back, put the scotch in Eames’ lap and sat down, facing Eames. The couch was a little too small for two adult men who didn’t seem to know how to sit properly. It was perfect. “You look drunk,” Arthur said.  
  
“I know,” Eames said. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”  
  
“You never asked me to fuck you,” Arthur said, which threw Eames off a little, so he compensated it with some scotch. “So, I guess we’ll never know,” Arthur added.  
  
“Don’t…” Eames cleared his throat. “I have been flirting with you like hell. How can you even say that I never asked you to fuck me?”  
  
“Because you never did. And you never asked me out. Or anything like that. It was always just, I don’t know, you calling me darling and saying something slightly inappropriate about my trousers.”  
  
“Because your trousers look like you want people think about nothing besides your ass,” Eames said and drank a little more. “Scotch?”  
  
Arthur took the bottle and poured some in the mug that had been on the coffee table since the morning.  
  
“I should’ve asked you out,” Eames said. “Is that what you wanted? Instead of cheesy flirting?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. I think I kind of… just wanted the job done.”  
  
“ _Arthur._ ”  
  
Arthur glanced at him. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re hot.”  
  
“I _know_ ,” he said, even though he was ridiculously relieved.  
  
“But I don’t know how to do these things.”  
  
“Sex? I could teach you.”  
  
Arthur sighed. Eames wanted to lean forward and kiss his throat but didn’t.  
  
“I suppose that means you never fucked Cobb,” Eames said.  
  
“Cobb is straight.”  
  
“I find that hard to believe. He spent so much time alone with you.”  
  
“That doesn’t –“  
  
“Anyone would turn gay after spending time with you.”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said but he was smiling. “What am I supposed to say that? _Thank you_ and _yes, I’m willing to have sex with you?_ ”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
“Don’t you think that it would’ve been nice,” Arthur said slowly, “to go to a dinner together? In a nice restaurant? And just talk?”  
  
“I didn’t think I could ask. We were always in a middle of a job. And you didn’t even flirt for fun.”  
  
“Have you noticed,” Arthur said, “that I don’t really do things for fun?”  
  
Eames bit his lip. “Kind of.”  
  
“Maybe that’s because I have…” Arthur paused. “Problems.”  
  
“I have problems, too, so we have that in common.”  
  
“Really.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Okay,” Arthur said and passed him the bottle. “What kind of problems?”  
  
 _Show me yours and I’ll show you mine_ , Eames thought. “My mom got depressed. After my dad died. I didn’t really understand it, of course. Maybe no one told me what it was. Maybe they only said that she was sad or some crap like that. And I thought that dad had left me and mom didn’t care about me, either, because she was so different and I couldn’t reach to her anymore.”  
  
“Shit,” Arthur said in a quiet voice.  
  
“She tried to kill herself,” Eames said, “twice. They didn’t tell me the first time. I was eight. But the last time, I was eleven. I found her. And I never forgave her. Not even when I was already an adult and I _knew_ she didn’t mean it, I knew she was sick and she was in so much pain she couldn’t think of any other way to deal with it. And then she died of breast cancer a while ago and now she’s gone and it’s too late.”  
  
“Eames –“  
  
“Don’t,” he said. “I only told you this so that you’d feel sorry for me and fuck me.”  
  
Arthur looked like he knew very well Eames didn’t mean it but decided to play along. “I never had a relationship.”  
  
“That’s fine,” Eames said. “There’s a lot of people who don’t want to –”  
  
“I wanted to,” Arthur said and cleared his throat, “shit, I _want_ to, I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to hold onto people. I tried to have sex with Cobb once.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Things were falling apart pretty badly,” Arthur said, “Mal had just cut me open with a knife in a dream, and Cobb was looking at me like he was wondering if I was worth dragging along, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. I couldn’t stand to lose him. I loved Mal, you know that, and she died, and then I only had Cobb and Cobb was falling into pieces, and we were in this cheap hotel room together and I came from the shower and then I just, I don’t know, I walked to him and kissed him. He pushed me away. And I tried to argue. I said to him that it would help. It would help him to sleep or clear his head or something. But I think I just wanted him to need me.”  
  
“Fucking hell, Arthur. He _needed_ you. You were the only thing that kept him alive for so long.”  
  
“You keep saying these things,” Arthur said, “like I’m… like I’m good. But it’s not like that. I’m not like that. Cobb knew me better than anyone and he didn’t want me.”  
  
“Arthur, Cobb is _straight._ ”  
  
“I said I could blow him,” Arthur said. “So, it shouldn’t have really mattered that much.”  
  
“Fucking hell –“  
  
“Sometimes I wish we’d have fucked up the Fischer job. Then he wouldn’t have left me.”  
  
“He…” Eames paused and took a deep breath. “That’s just… You don’t want _Cobb._ Cobb’s an asshole who used you for _years._ ”  
  
“He trusted me to fix his problems,” Arthur said, “he took me everywhere with him and he told everyone I was great.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Eames said, “I can do that. I can tell everyone you’re great.”  
  
“No,” Arthur said, “I think if I had flirted with you, you would’ve laughed and lost interest. Or maybe you would’ve fucked me once or twice and then you would’ve gotten it out of your system and that would’ve been it. And you would’ve pitied me because you would’ve known I still liked you.”  
  
“No,” Eames said, his voice thick with something he couldn’t name. “It wouldn’t have been like that.”  
  
“I guess we’ll never know now.”  
  
“Are you trying to make me angry? Because you can’t just say things like that, you can’t say that I would’ve been an asshole and that there’s nothing to be done with it and that it’s too late. You can’t just throw something like that at me and think I’ll take it. Are you fucking _trying_ to piss me off?”  
  
Arthur didn’t answer that. Eames opened his mouth and closed it again. He was too tired for a conversation like this, but he didn’t want to stop, because what if this was the only time when Arthur was going to talk to him like this, honestly, almost too honestly. He wanted to sleep but knew he couldn’t, and also he didn’t want to sleep a fucking minute when it was quite clear that he didn’t have many left. And anyway, he couldn’t have moved even if he had wanted to, because now he _was_ a little drunk and Arthur was _right there_ , in sweatpants that hang too low and t-shirt that was the most casual item Arthur had ever worn, had to be, and Arthur’s face was a little flushed and his hands were barely inches away from Eames’ knee and he kept clearing his throat which made his Adam’s apple go up and down. He was staring at Eames as if he couldn’t believe Eames was still there.  
  
Eames took a deep breath. “Are you trying to push me away? Right now?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Arthur said in a thin voice.  
  
“Because I think you’re stuck with me,” Eames said. “For the rest of your life, if those fucking astronomers are right.”  
  
Arthur smiled just a little. “I’m not afraid of commitment.”  
  
“I know that,” Eames said, “I fucking know. You would’ve gone to prison for Cobb, you bloody idiot. I should call Cobb and have a fucking talk with him.”  
  
“ _Eames._ ”  
  
“Fine. I won’t call him.” He took the bottle of scotch from Arthur’s hand and ignored the warmth of Arthur’s skin brushing against his. “I don’t think I can sleep.”  
  
“I think we should try,” Arthur said in a quiet voice. “Just for a few hours. We still have days.”  
  
“ _Days.”  
  
_ “I’m terrible when I don’t get enough sleep,” Arthur said, “you don’t want to see me like that,” which sounded a lot like, _don’t leave me._  
  
“Okay,” Eames said, “we’ll try to sleep. Just for a few hours.”  
  
  
**  
  
  
He stayed in his bed for something like twenty minutes before getting up. Then he wondered briefly if he ought to put some clothes on, but then again, Arthur’s bedroom was right next to his. And if Arthur was going to make him stand on the floor getting cold in nothing but his pants, he could fuck off. He walked to the door and spent an awkwardly long time trying to open it. It was possible that the amount of scotch had somehow weakened his logical abilities. But he wouldn’t put on fucking trousers when he was on his way to seduce a man. That just wouldn’t do. He turned back and put on his socks, though, because the floor was very cold.  
  
In the corridor, he knocked on Arthur’s door and waited.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said. That was probably an invitation. Eames pushed the door open, stepped in and closed the door. Arthur was sitting on the bed, clenching the sheets against his chest.  
  
“Can I come in?” Eames asked.  
  
“You’re already in,” Arthur said.  
  
Eames walked to him and stopped beside the bed. There was no way he could climb onto Arthur’s bed without an invitation. “You don’t have to blow me. I’m not going to leave you anyway, so you don’t have to worry about that. Just so that you know.” There was something off with his logic, but he couldn’t really place it. “I really like you, Arthur.”  
  
“I really like you, too,” Arthur said and shifted on the bed. It looked like he was trying to get away from Eames, and then Eames realised he was just making room. “But I would. I would blow you. Happily. If you just want me to.”  
  
“I think,” Eames said and climbed onto the bed next to Arthur. He had a vague feeling he wasn’t being very smooth. Then he tried to put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders –that seemed the safest place and he had to touch _something_ – and he accidentally poked Arthur’s dick with his knee. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m…”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said, “we’re drunk.”  
  
“I think we can do anything you like,” Eames said, “anything. Unless it’s something kinky, because then we’d have to negotiate.”  
  
“Okay,” Arthur said, bending himself backwards onto a weird position which appeared kinky indeed, until Eames realised he was just trying to get rid of his boxers. “ _Okay._ We’re going to do this.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said and stared at Arthur’s hands as Arthur tugged the boxers down and threw them onto the floor. “I don’t know where to start.”  
  
“Fucking hell, Eames,” Arthur said. He was naked now and he sounded a little nervous and like he was wondering why he’d ever put up with Eames.  
  
Eames kissed him.  
  
It was weird. He had been thinking about kissing Arthur _a lot_ , so now he was still thinking about it, but he was doing it, too, and he couldn’t quite concentrate. It didn’t feel exactly real. He needed it to be _good_ so that Arthur would believe he meant it.  
  
“Stop thinking,” Arthur said and bit him a little.  
  
He kissed Arthur until the sheets were on the floor and Arthur was on top of him, grinding down against him, and his head was hazy with want and need and the feeling that the world was going to end before he could get enough of Arthur. Also, he felt stupid because he was still wearing socks and couldn’t figure out how to get rid of them without Arthur noticing. And then Arthur bent lower to suck him, but he wasn’t done with Arthur’s mouth yet, definitely not, so he grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and flipped them over and let’s face it, he was the strong one. He could hold Arthur down if he wanted to. He could catch Arthur’s wrists and keep him in place and kiss him and make him feel good and adored and loved, and he could make Arthur forget about trying to suck him off to keep him. Arthur didn’t need to do that. Arthur had him. Arthur definitely had him. He pushed Arthur against the mattress and held Arthur’s cock in his hand and kept kissing Arthur’s lovely face, and then he kept asking what _Arthur_ wanted until finally Arthur told him.  
  
Arthur had brought the goddamn lube. He thought it was ridiculous and said that aloud. When Arthur looked hurt at that, he said that he was very glad Arthur had been so ridiculous, because what it meant was that Arthur had come here thinking he might have sex with Eames. That was what it meant. And it was brilliant. Arthur had condoms as well, which was very sensible of him, and Eames said it with a lot of kisses.  
  
The rest of it was a bit trickier. Arthur was tight as hell but kept telling Eames to hurry up, and Eames tried to tell him it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere, if they happened to be so unfortunate that he’d come before he could get his dick inside Arthur, they’d just have to try it again in the morning. Or whenever Arthur wanted to. Finally, Arthur shut up and let him be slow and gentle and careful and spend all the time he wanted looking at Arthur’s face as he pushed his fingers in. And it was perfect, the way Arthur arched under his touch was perfect, the way Arthur trembled when he crooked his fingers was perfect. He told Arthur what he thought of him, and for fucking once Arthur didn’t argue or brush it off as a joke. He said that Arthur was the best person he knew and that he believed that if they had a little time, he could love Arthur, and Arthur just stared at him and took it, possibly because he now had his fingers wrapped around Arthur’s cock. But there was a chance that Arthur believed him.  
  
When he finally fucked Arthur, he had to tell Arthur not to come, because Arthur was already shaking and leaking and whispering incoherent things about Eames’ cock. It didn’t work out. He had barely managed to get into a nice rhythm when he came himself, and Arthur jerked himself off before Eames could regain his senses. That was a disappointment. He told that to Arthur over and over again and Arthur told him to shut the fuck up. They’d do it again. They’d have time. He knew Arthur was lying but didn’t care, and then Arthur kissed him on the mouth for maybe a minute and fell asleep in his arms.  
  
  
**  
  
  
  
TWO DAYS  
  
  
  
He was holding Arthur in his arms. He also had a headache and his mouth tasted like he had eaten something rotten a week ago and hadn’t brushed his teeth ever since, and there was rain hitting against the window glass, and something was wrong that he couldn’t bother to remember right now. But he was holding Arthur in his arms.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said, shifting.  
  
“Shut up,” he said and kissed the back of Arthur’s neck. “I’m sleeping.”  
  
“I need to take a piss,” Arthur said. “Tell me you took the condom off at night.”  
  
Apparently Eames had taken it off and thrown onto the floor with the stuff in it. “Yeah.”  
  
Arthur rolled onto his back and took a sharp breath. “I’m sore. I can’t believe you fucked me and I got _sore._ ”  
  
“Well, it’s a wonder since I only lasted like three seconds.”  
  
“We should’ve done this years ago,” Arthur said, pushing his fingers into Eames’ hair. “I can’t understand why I didn’t flirt back at you.”  
  
“I can’t understand why I didn’t ask you out.”  
  
“I fucking fell for you the first time I saw you,” Arthur said, “in Moscow, do you remember? Cobb said you were brilliant and I was jealous and then I saw you, and my mind kind of just broke down. You were so ridiculously hot and I hated you for it.”  
  
“So, that’s why you hated me.” He kissed Arthur’s neck. “You’re stupid.”  
  
“I thought you’d never like me,” Arthur said, “I mean, you might think I’d be good at my job, because I _am_ , but you’d never _like_ me. And then you started flirting with me and I didn’t know what to do.”  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
“I don’t think we’re going to have to wash these sheets,” Arthur said. His voice was still light but now there was something underneath it. He pulled his hand away from Eames’ hair. “This is a little too much, Eames.”  
  
“What the hell do you mean?” Eames said to Arthur’s shoulder.  
  
“Fucking you,” Arthur said, “and the end of the world.”  
  
Eames kissed his shoulder, then his chest and then his mouth, but his breath smelled almost as bad as Eames’ own mouth tasted. “Listen,” he said and kissed Arthur’s ear instead, “you could go take a shower. I can come with you but maybe you’d like to be alone for a moment. I’ll go downstairs and make us coffee. And then we can sit on the couch like yesterday and you can wince when you shift and I can be smug about it but otherwise, everything will be the same.”  
  
“It won’t be the same.”  
  
“We can snap and argue and talk about our childhood. It’s just that now you know you can kiss me anytime you want.”  
  
Arthur took a deep breath. “Bloody hell.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Anytime I want.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“For two days.”  
  
Eames held his breath and kissed Arthur on the mouth. “Yeah.”  
  
  
**  
  
  
He made them coffee while Arthur was taking the shower.  
  
“It’s bigger now,” Arthur said, when he came to the kitchen wearing the same pair of sweatpants and a pullover Eames’ hadn’t seen before.  
  
“Your dick? You’re an optimistic.”  
  
For a second Arthur looked like he couldn’t understand why he had ever thought sleeping with Eames would be a good idea. Eames turned to him and waited. Maybe Arthur was doing a list of pros and cons in his head. That would’ve been just like him. And it was probably a pro on Eames’ side that Arthur didn’t have time to find anyone else anymore. Clearly that was what Arthur realised, because he took a deep breath and walked to Eames. “We’re going to die.”  
  
“It seems like that,” Eames said.  
  
Arthur cleared his throat. “My dick is pretty happy in this nice morning, thank you very much for asking.”  
  
“Good,” Eames said and then realised he was grinning like an idiot. “That’s good. I was trying to make him happy last night.”  
  
Arthur looked a bit shocked. “That’s too much, Eames. Could you not use personal pronouns of my… actually, any of my body parts?”  
  
“What’re you going to do? Dumb me?”  
  
Arthur bit his lip. He was close enough that Eames could’ve easily leaned in and kissed him. Arthur smelled of soap and it seemed he had only pushed his hair back and not fixed it with a product.  
  
“Can I -”, Eames said, then swallowed and pushed his fingers into Arthur’s hair. It was wet and smooth and there were curls. “Oh my god.”  
  
“Shut up,” Arthur said, but he was smiling.  
  
“Can we just be happy?” Eames asked, his fingers drawing circles against Arthur’s scalp. “For one day? Because there’s nothing we can do, but we’re here, and I kind of feel like I’ve finally managed to get in bed with someone I’ve wanted for a very long time, and now it’s the morning after and I really want to make out with him on the couch and then have more sex and take a nap in the afternoon and cook together and watch television.”  
  
“I can’t cook,” Arthur said. “And I don’t know about the nap.”  
  
“We don’t have to sleep. We could just lie in the bed. Naked.”  
  
“You’re a cuddler,” Arthur said and wrapped his arms around Eames’ back. They probably looked ridiculous. If someone they knew saw them like this and the word got out, no one in the business would ever again believe they were very dangerous criminals. “I should’ve known.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Eames said and kissed Arthur’s cheek. Arthur hadn’t shaved. “I’ve managed to restrain myself pretty well around you. Until now.”  
  
“You haven’t restrained yourself around me at all,” Arthur said, “ever.”  
  
“And look how well it worked out for me.”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said and kissed him on the mouth. “I want coffee.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I want it now,” Arthur said and kissed him again.  
  
“You have to tell me what kind of music you like,” he said, “because I don’t know, and I’ve always wondered.”  
  
“Eames. _Coffee._ ”  
  
“So that we can put something on the next time we fuck. Maybe Toto.”  
  
Arthur shoved him in the stomach with his elbow but not unkindly. Eames laughed and stepped aside just enough that Arthur could pour himself coffee.  
  
“Or maybe you only like jazz. Maybe you like to pretend you only like jazz. I could put _Kind of Blue_ on and we will see what you like about that.” Then he thought about something else. “Arthur, this isn’t a one-night stand.”  
  
Arthur turned to him, the coffee mug in his hand. He was holding it like a shield and Eames’ couldn’t really make sense of the look on his face. He looked like he wanted to point out how stupid it was to say something like that, how little it meant in the circumstances. But he also looked like he wanted Eames to mean it.  
  
“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Eames said. “I want a relationship.”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to believe -”  
  
“Shut up. Do you want to?”  
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
“Then it’s settled. We can talk about the specifics later.”  
  
“Eames –,” Arthur said in a heavy voice.  
  
“Please,” Eames said. He would’ve taken Arthur’s hand but unfortunately, both of Arthur’s hands were holding the stupid coffee mug, so he stroked Arthur’s arm instead. The pullover was soft and worn out as if Arthur hadn’t bought it specifically for this trip, as if Arthur actually wore clothes like pullovers when he was at home. Arthur, at home. What a wild thought. “Please, just… I’m here now. We can’t do anything about the rest of it.”  
  
“Are you going to be calling me your boyfriend?” Arthur asked. He was clearly trying to smile.  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
“That’ll be so unprofessional.”  
  
“Yes, it will be,” Eames said. “I promise.”  
  
Arthur shook his head a little. His smile didn’t look so strained anymore. “I can’t believe I like you.”  
  
“I can’t believe you don’t want to listen to Toto when I fuck you.”  
  
“I can’t believe you think you’re going to get to fuck me again,” Arthur said, but now he was really smiling. God, he was adorable. He was watching Eames as if he actually trusted Eames this time, not just with his life like usually, but with his… With his heart, probably. Fucking hell.  
  
“You can, too, if you like,” Eames said and stole Arthur’s coffee from his hand. “I’m flexible.”  
  
Arthur just stared at him.  
  
“I have a good feeling about this,” he said. “I told you you can fuck me and now you’re getting hard in your fancy sweatpants.”  
  
“No,” Arthur said and took a deep breath, “I’m not… Give me my fucking coffee back.”  
  
“I’ll pour you another one. And I’m going to need a proper breakfast. I need energy if I have to deal with you all day long.” When Arthur didn’t say anything, Eames glanced at him. “It was a joke.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Yeah, I got it.”  
  
“It was just a joke, Arthur,” he said, put both coffee mugs onto the table and kissed Arthur. “Just a stupid joke.”  
  
“You don’t have to –“  
  
He pushed his hands under Arthur’s shirt. Arthur’s skin was warm and still a little damp from the shower. And unbelievably soft. Like a baby’s. Except for the hair, of course. “I’m happy.”  
  


Arthur laughed in a slightly panicking voice, so Eames kissed him silent.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Arthur.”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said. He had his arm wrapped around Eames’ shoulder and his chest pressed against Eames’ side. Outside, it was getting dark. Eames wondered why the hell they had all their clothes on and for how long exactly he could go on without falling asleep. He had said he wanted to take a nap and Arthur had said, _no sleeping._  
  
“Tell me something.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
Arthur was quiet for a moment. “Anything?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I hate when there’re crumbles on the kitchen counter.”  
  
Eames laughed to the pillow. “I knew that. Tell me something new.”  
  
“I don’t know how to fix a bike.”  
  
“You’d know if you watched a Youtube tutorial.”  
  
“The first man I had sex with was my gym teacher,” Arthur said. “I sucked him off in the locker room. I wanted him to like me.”  
  
Eames bit his lip and rolled onto his back. “You stupid git. He should’ve been worried about you liking him.”  
  
“Your turn.”  
  
“I had a boyfriend,” he said, stroking Arthur’s hair. “When I was nineteen. I had dated girls before that. But then I met him and realised what had been wrong. We fucked in my room when mom was sleeping at the other side of the wall.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah. We were together for two years.”  
  
“That sounds…” Arthur took a deep breath. “Really nice.”  
  
“Some things happen to some people,” Eames said, “it doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I deserved it and you didn’t. Or like I like deserved what happened to my family. There’s no logic in it.”  
  
“I know,” Arthur said in a voice that suggested he didn’t.  
  
“It could’ve been you who had his awkward first time with his lovely boyfriend and was trying not to wake his mom up but also trying not to come in his pants.”  
  
“How did that go?”  
  
“Badly,” Eames said and kissed Arthur. “I wish we could change that. I wish you could have everything you ever wanted.”  
  
“This is pretty nice,” Arthur said. “I don’t want to sleep.”  
  
“Maybe we should go downstairs and eat something.”  
  
“I don’t want to move, either.”  
  
“You’re being very difficult, darling.” Eames took a deep breath. “What if I sleep just for a minute? You can wake me up when you want to.”  
  
“Are you tired?”  
  
“We still have time.”  
  
Arthur shook his head.  
  
“You can draw something on my face when I sleep.”  
  
“Well, that changes everything,” Arthur said, but he looked sad.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They went downstairs at midnight to eat. Eames had slept for half an hour before Arthur had woken him up by kissing his shoulders and chest, and now he felt more tired. When they went back upstairs, back to Arthur’s room and Arthur’s bed, he thought he’d fall asleep right away, no matter what Arthur said. But Arthur didn’t say anything and undressed him instead.  
  
“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked after some slow kissing.  
  
“No,” Arthur said, “you fuck me.”  
  
“Don’t you want to -”  
  
“You’re going to fall asleep if I let you lie down,” Arthur said, but he said it nicely, and he was probably right.  
  
Eames got onto his knees, pushed a couple of pillows under Arthur’s ass and arranged Arthur’s legs so that they were sprawled and he was sitting in between them. And then he just sat there for a moment and thought that they were pretty good together, he and Arthur. And Arthur was so patient. Arthur was so beautiful. Arthur was looking at him like he thought Eames knew what he was doing. He stroked the insides of Arthur’s thighs and then grabbed Arthur’s left knee, traced in between Arthur’s legs with his thumb and pressed the tip of it against Arthur until Arthur wasn’t patient anymore.  
  
But it was easier than yesterday. Arthur’s body remembered how. And when Eames reached for a condom, Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled it back, which made a cold thing move somewhere in Eames’ guts. He wanted to tell Arthur not to fucking give up but couldn’t, because he kind of had. He just didn’t have it in him. He couldn’t both love Arthur and make himself believe they’d live through this.  
  
He took his time and then pushed inside Arthur as slowly as he could, which wasn’t difficult at all. It was like he was under water. There was something about this that was a bit too hard to believe. But his heart was aching for real.  
  
“I love you,” he said, when he pulled away and pushed back in over and over again. He wasn’t sure he meant it, but it felt like that barely mattered anymore. He could wait and never say it to Arthur, or he could say it now. “I love you, Arthur.” Arthur looked at him with heavy eyes. “I love you.”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said but didn’t finish it.  
  
He warned Arthur before he came, but Arthur didn’t let him pull away. Then he tried to make Arthur come with him, but it was too late for that, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried himself inside Arthur for a few seconds and then climbed onto his knees in between Arthur’s thighs and sucked Arthur off. He should’ve taken Arthur to a dinner and booked a nice hotel room with a huge bed and then he should’ve blown Arthur. That would’ve been the right way to deal with it. He should’ve made it clear that Arthur wasn’t the only one who was afraid of losing someone.  
  
“That took ages,” Arthur said, when Eames squeezed himself so close to him in the bed as was possible. His fingers were in Eames’ hair and his breathing was warm against Eames’ neck. “Don’t fall asleep.”  
  
“I’m not accepting any criticism right now,” Eames said. “In a week, maybe.”  
  
“You’re an asshole,” Arthur said and kissed the top of his head. “And it wasn’t criticism.”  
  
“You’re lovely,” Eames said and kissed Arthur’s chest. He could feel Arthur’s heart beating if he pressed his face against the right spot.  
  
  
**  
  
  
  
ONE DAY  
  
  
  
When Eames woke up, it was still dark and Arthur was trying to push him from the bed.  
  
“Wake up,” Arthur said, which was absurd because Eames clearly was awake. “We fucking _fell asleep._ ”  
  
“Arthur,” he said and tried to roll onto his back, but Arthur didn’t let him.  
  
“We don’t have _time_ ,” Arthur said. “We can’t sleep or we’re going to die.”  
  
Eames tried to grab Arthur’s wrists, but it was a bit tricky when he was still half-asleep and Arthur was clearly too much awake. Arthur slipped away from his grasp and walked a circle on the carpet. He was naked but Eames doubted he noticed that. “Arthur, darling –“  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Arthur snapped at him and then stopped, thank god. He tried to keep the hurt from showing on his face. “Sorry,” Arthur said and took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean that.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
“I can’t piss you off now. I _can’t._ ”  
  
“You can’t piss me off,” Eames said and tried to smile, “or you _can,_ you can do anything, darling. But I won’t leave. Nothing will make me leave anymore.”  
  
“Good,” Arthur said. He was chewing on his lower lip and Eames was a bit worried that there would be blood. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”  
  
Eames sat up in the bed. “A _walk?_ ”  
  
“I need fresh air,” Arthur said and frowned. “I don’t know. I need… I need to be alone.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just for a few minutes,” Arthur said and turned to the door.  
  
“You’re naked.”  
  
“I…” Arthur turned back and took the clothes lying on the floor. They were Eames’. Arthur put them on and looked a little surprised about the size. Also, he was wearing Eames’ shirt inside out. “It’ll take just a minute,” Arthur said and walked out of the room.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Eames found him a hundred feet from the house, sitting in the dead grass and shaking. There was weak grey light but nothing to see on the sky. It would be a cloudy day. Knowing Scotland, they’d probably never see the sun again. Eames sat down on the grass next to Arthur and said to himself that he had never liked the sun anyway. He wouldn’t miss it. There was mist hanging low everywhere he could see, and the ground was so wet it felt like sitting down in a pool.  
  
“Can I stay?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said.  
  
  
**  
  
Arthur called to his father. He was still wearing Eames’ clothes, walking a tiny circle in the garden. He looked trapped. Eames watched him through the kitchen window and wanted to walk to him and take the goddamn phone and tell Arthur’s father to say whatever it was that would make Arthur feel better. But probably Arthur’s father didn’t know what that was, and nor did Arthur.  
  
Afterwards, Arthur came to the kitchen, drank a cup of cold coffee and then called his father again. This time, he shouted at the phone. Five minutes later, he was crying silently at the front yard. Eames hugged him until he stopped crying, and then he called his father again.  
  
Eames didn’t know who to call. If he had been somewhere else, he would’ve called Arthur.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“I’m wearing your clothes,” Arthur said. He was sitting on the couch, drinking hot chocolate Eames had made from cocoa powder that had expired eight years ago. “I didn’t think I’d cry.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Eames said. “Obviously.”  
  
“Isn’t it funny,” Arthur said in a grim voice, “that when you really need to tell someone something, I mean, when you have your last chance at making things right, you only say all the wrong things.”  
  
“You said the right things to me.”  
  
Arthur glanced at him. He had chocolate on his upper lip. “Thanks.”  
  
“It’s true.”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat. “Last night, when you fucked me…”  
  
“Don’t worry about that.”  
  
“You said you… I can’t, Eames. But I hope you know.”  
  
“Know what?” Eames asked, because he was a goddamn bastard. And Arthur smiled a little, so it was worth the risk.  
  
“I hope you know I want to be with you until the end of the world,” Arthur said in a very serious voice.  
  
Eames leaned in to kiss him. He tasted of the chocolate.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Arthur told him not to drink scotch. He drank just a little. Half an hour later, he realised he couldn’t breathe. He took Arthur’s gun because it was the closest and went to the yard and shot at the crooked tree with a swing. He used all the bullets in the barrel and then he threw the gun as far as he could.  
  
“Sorry,” he said when Arthur finally walked to him.  
  
“I have two more.”  
  
“I can’t do this,” he said. “I can’t die. I can’t. I won’t do it. It’s just, it’s not alright.”  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said and stepped to him, and he punched Arthur in the stomach. Lightly, of course. Just to shut Arthur up. He didn’t want to hear what Arthur would say. But Arthur folded in half and then punched him back. It made him stop thinking for a second, which was so good. He could almost breathe.  
  
He didn’t know how he ended up lying in the grass, but Arthur was on him and he couldn’t let Arthur trap him. He rolled to the side and grabbed Arthur’s wrists and then at some point of it, he realised Arthur’s nose was bleeding.  
  
He stopped.  
  
Arthur pushed him against the ground by the shoulders and sat down on his waist.  
  
“Sorry,” he said and tried to wipe the blood away from Arthur’s face but Arthur hit his hand away. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”  
  
“Are you done?”  
  
“Yeah.” He breathed in and out in sharp breaths. “I think. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Arthur said. “At least you didn’t shoot me.”  
  
Eames opened his mouth.  
  
“That was a joke,” Arthur cut in.  
  
“Good,” Eames said. “Because I would never –“  
  
“Yeah, fine, I know,” Arthur said.  
  
“Are you going to let me go?” Eames asked, because Arthur was still sitting on him.  
  
“No,” Arthur said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They hid all the clocks. Then they put them back.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Arthur nose began bleeding again. Eames took a package of ice cream from the freezer and then kept it against the bleeding nose, and when the ice cream melted, they ate it. The kisses tasted of chocolate ice cream and blood.  
  
“I’m sorry I punched you,” Eames said.  
  
“Stop apologising or I’ll hit you in the face,” Arthur said, and that was when Eames started crying.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Arthur fucked him on the floor in the living room. He was on his knees and it was too cold for this and he got his knees bruised probably even before Arthur first pushed into him. But he couldn’t take it soft. Not now. He had to feel something, everything, preferably everything at once, because otherwise he'd start crying again. His ears were ringing, and there were cracks that probably came from his knees, and the sounds of damp skin against damp skin, and Arthur’s breathing, and his own heart, and the clock ticking on the wall, and ticking, and ticking.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” Arthur said. They were lying on the couch that was too narrow. Eames had long ago decided that if he was going to fall onto the floor, he would take Arthur with him. Maybe Arthur guessed this but didn’t look afraid.  
  
“You don’t have to,” Eames said. Arthur was warm and pliant in his arms and still smelled of sex.  
  
“I’m going to have to take a piss at some point.”  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“Not yet, though,” Arthur said. Eames wanted to kiss him for that but didn’t dare to move. “I think we should’ve spent this day differently.”  
  
“Differently how?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“I think it was a good day,” Eames said. “I woke up in your bed. There was crying and sex and a fight. What else can you expect?”  
  
“Conversation?”  
  
“If you have something to tell me, you can tell me now.”  
  
“There must be,” Arthur said. “We’ve only been together like two days. I can’t have told you everything I want to. Not in two days. But I was thinking, what difference does it make what I tell you?”  
  
“At least we were together,” Eames said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“If you had a cat, what would you call it?”  
  
“Sniper,” Arthur said. “If you were an animal, what would you be?”  
  
“A rhino. What’s your favourite smell?”  
  
“Maybe coffee. What’s yours?”  
  
“You.”  
  
Arthur kissed his neck. “You’re an idiot.”  
  
“Certainly.” He made sure he wouldn’t fall off the couch and then shifted closer to Arthur. They were naked under three blankets and he wondered if he was ever going to be cold again. “What’s your biggest fear?”  
  
Arthur was silent for a few seconds. “That I love someone and they stop loving me.”  
  
Eames kissed the corner of his mouth. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.  
  
“What’s yours?”  
  
“Dying,” he said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
  
SIX HOURS  
  
  
  
There was a sound like far away traffic or the sea or the static of the television screen. It was low and constant, and Eames didn’t know when it had started. He wasn’t certain it wasn’t in his head, but he didn’t want to ask Arthur, because if it was real and Arthur hadn’t noticed, he wasn’t going to tell Arthur.  
  
The air tasted of metal, or maybe it was the blood from Arthur’s nose.  
  
Eames’ heart was beating too quickly and he knew they could both feel it. Also, he really needed to piss.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur said. He sounded a little drunk and sleep-deprived and oddly calm. “Eames, have you thought about it?”  
  
“What?” Eames asked. Maybe if Arthur kept talking to him, he couldn’t hear anything else.  
  
“I know we shouldn’t,” Arthur said, “but we could just go.”  
  
Eames didn’t have a fucking clue what they were talking about. “We could go where?”  
  
“The PASIV,” Arthur said. “We have it.”  
  
Eames swallowed.  
  
“And enough drugs for five people. We could go all the way down. To limbo. Haven’t you thought about it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I have. I thought you had, too. I thought you didn’t mention it because you didn’t want to.”  
  
“Arthur,” he said. “We don’t have time.”  
  
“We do,” Arthur said, “down there. We could have a lifetime.”  
  
“In an empty world.” Eames blinked. Arthur was staring at him, and there was this look in Arthur’s eyes, the same look Arthur sometimes had when they were about to do something absolutely insane and he wanted to say no but couldn’t make himself do it. “But there would be nothing to come back to.”  
  
“Yeah. No.”  
  
“Only this.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur said and took a deep breath. “But isn’t it like that, always? Life? There’s nothing to come back to. From it.”  
  
“We’d be alone. I’d drive you mad.”  
  
“You’d get tired of me.”  
  
“Arthur,” Eames said and then closed his mouth. He couldn’t promise that wouldn’t happen. He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t break Arthur’s heart, or his own, or drive them both insane or make them more miserable than ever. “Can we even die down there? What if it isn’t just one lifetime? What if it’s a thousand years and we can’t stop it?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “To decide.”  
  
“I _know_ ,” Arthur said and shifted closer to him on the crappy couch under three blankets.  
  
“So,” he said, “do you think we should do it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “What would you do?”

**Author's Note:**

> I guess there're two things that I took inspiration from for this story. One is a prompt on [Daily AU Prompts on tumblr](https://dailyau.tumblr.com/) that said "A meteor is going to hit the Earth in three days and I’ve never admitted that I have a crush on you before but I guess there’s no time like the present AU." The other is Lars von Trier's film Melancholia that I saw years ago and that gave something of the atmosphere that I was aiming for in this story.


End file.
